


About Time

by SkyFireForever



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace (TV 2016)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21751744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyFireForever/pseuds/SkyFireForever
Summary: Everyone knows that Helene sleeps with every man, save her husband. Until she does.
Relationships: Pyotr "Pierre" Kirillovich Bezukhov/Elena "Hélène" Vasilyevna Kuragina
Kudos: 24





	About Time

Pierre was so tired, exhaustion settling into his very bones as he trudged up the stairs towards his room. He opened the door, prepared to fling himself into his bed and lay there until his thirst for alcohol consumed him. He paused for just a moment when he saw his wife sitting at her vanity, applying a generous amount of makeup to her face. He stood in the doorway, watching her reflection in the mirror. 

“What are you doing?” He questioned, making his way towards her and placing his hands on the back of her chair. 

He didn’t miss the roll of her eyes in the mirror’s reflection. Even now, she was disgusted with him, couldn’t stand to be near him, hated his questions. Instead of the usual shame, anger flared up within him at the action. How dare she roll her eyes at him? She was his  _ wife.  _ He had ever right to know what she was up to. 

“Right now, I’m getting ready,” she said, rising to her feet. “And now I’m ready, so I’m going out.” She grabbed a bag that was hanging off the side of the chair. 

“Out? Out where?” 

“What does it matter?” She asked, though it was clear that she didn’t care for an answer. She studied her painted nails a moment before making her way towards the door, prepared to cast Pierre out again, to ignore him in favor of finding herself in bed with another man, a more competent man. Anger boiled inside of him and Pierre saw red. Without fully being aware of what he was doing, his arm shot out and his large hand wrapped around Helene’s slim wrist. He tugged her back, earning a startled gasp from her. He moved quicker than he knew he was capable of, crowding Helene towards the door and boxing her in. He gathered both of her wrists into one hand, pinning them above her head. Her eyes were wide in alarm, but there was also a flash of something else, something that Pierre had seen in her gaze when directed at other men, but never at him. “Pierre, what on earth are you doing?” She demanded. “Unhand me at once!” 

Pierre didn’t release her, instead his eyes bore into hers with a fierce intensity that caused her protests to die out in her throat. “You  _ disgust  _ me,” he spat at her, his voice barely above a low snarl. “You think you can waltz out of here, leave me with an empty bed while you find some pretty young thing to fuck?” He challenged, delighting as he watched her shrink in on herself. “You think you can embarrass me by fucking every man besides your own husband? You think you can disgrace me like this?” He moved impossibly closer, his face only inches from hers. “Answer me!” 

Her tone shifted from frustrated arguing to gentle pleas. “Pierre, listen to yourself. You’re being unreasonable,” she cooed, trying to soothe his anger. “Look, why don’t you let me go and we can have a lovely evening together, hm? I’ll make some tea and-”

“Me?! I’m the one being unreasonable?!” He laughed in her face, but there was no humor to it. “I’m not the  _ whore  _ who betrays her husband!” He took a step back, releasing her hands so that they dropped by her sides. “You are my wife. You belong to  _ me.”  _ He didn’t miss her sharp intake of breath at those words, didn’t miss how she flattened herself closer to the door. He acted without thinking, lunging forward to capture her mouth in a seething kiss. Her cry of alarm was muffled by his lips on hers as he licked his way into her mouth. He bit down hard on her lower lip and was almost surprised by her sudden moan. She wanted this as much as he did. Fucking whore. 

His hands came up to fondle her breasts, squeezing the flesh over her clothing. He’d done this much before, back when she was trying to court him, back when she was willing to play his games if it meant getting what she wanted. The memory caused another wave of fury to crash over him and he decided that he was done with her games. He grabbed the fabric of her dress and pulled, grinning in satisfaction as he heard it tear. He pulled his lips away from her lips and attached them to her neck, covering marks from her previous lovers with fresh ones of his own. He sucked and bit at her skin, delighting in how she gasped and moaned and mewled for him. Her hand reached boldly for his hair, tugging him closer. 

“Don’t stop,” she begged, her head thrown back to expose more skin to him. He was more than happy to oblige, biting down hard on her collarbone and earning a sharp gasp as his reward. He moved a hand back to her breasts, dipping below the torn fabric to feel her plainly. He squeezed and fondled the warm flesh, pinching at her nipple until it stood erect for him. Only then did he pull away from her neck so he could bury his face between her perfect breasts. He sucked and kissed and licked at them, tasting the sweat upon her skin. He pulled a nipple into his mouth and caught it between his teeth, earning a sharp cry of pleasure. 

He stepped away from her, chest heaving as his mind cleared. What was he doing? What was he thinking? He was clumsy and virginal. He had no idea how to behave during the act. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He should end this. He should turn and run from the room at once, apologizing all the while. But when he gazed upon Helene, with her swollen lips and torn dress, he could think of no rational reason to let this opportunity pass him by. He grabbed her and maneuvered her towards the bed, shoving her so that her top half was pressed against the mattress while her feet were still planted on the floor. Pierre hesitated for only a moment before quickly pushing down his own trousers and undergarments. 

“You are a whore,” he declared, grabbing Helene’s skirts and pulling them up, only to reveal that she had worn nothing underneath. “Look at you, you don’t even clothe yourself decently!” He felt another burst of anger that resulted in him bringing his hand down hard against her bare ass. She gasped and jerked forward, but she did not protest. “You’re a slut,” Pierre brought his hand down again, satisfied with the resounding  _ smack _ that echoed in the room. “You are a traitor! You care about nothing but yourself and your own pleasure!” The blows didn’t stop, as he landed one after the other, turning her ass a different color entirely. “You’re a disgusting, filthy, dirty whore and I can’t imagine how anyone can even bare to look at you!” He finished with one final blow, his chest heaving and sweat pooling on his brow. He wiped his sweat away and stared down at the woman at his mercy. He flipped her over, so that she was lying on her back, but he refused to even glance in the direction of her face. He didn’t want to see her. Not for this. 

He slid a hand up her thigh, allowing himself to creep closer and closer to where he wanted to touch her most without actually touching. He’d never touched a woman in such a place before and he wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t aware of how to act was carried out, it was more that he was so suddenly overwhelmed by the prospect of it finally happening. He dared to dip a finger towards that most sacred of places and he was surprised to find the area already wet. He removed his hand almost out of reflex, staring at his now damp finger. He slowly brought it to his lips, wrapping his lips around the digit and sucking. The taste was strange, but not at all unpleasant. 

He pressed his hand back, daring to slip a finger inside of her. He could feel her walls around him as he pressed forward, but she wasn’t tight, as other men claimed that women were. He found that his finger moved with ease and he had no trouble sliding a second finger in to join its brother. He gently moved his fingers in slow motions, curling them which resulted in a jolt from the body below him. He stared in surprise before repeating the same motion, earning him a gasp and a soft moan. He slowly added a third finger, this one harder to fit inside. He continued his slow motions, watching with rapt fascination at what caused what reaction. 

“Faster,” Helene eventually broke. “Please, do  _ something,”  _ she whined, pushing her hips further towards Pierre. 

Pierre stared for just a moment before doing as he was told, moving his fingers at a quicker pace, jabbing in and out, curling and pressing them against the inside of her. This seemed to do the trick, as she was gasping and moaning his name before too long. He couldn’t wait any longer and pulled his fingers out, lining up his cock with her entrance. He slowly slid inside of her, groaning as her heat enveloped him. This was a much tighter fit than his fingers were and he gasped and bit back a moan as he sheathed himself fully inside of her. Once his hips were pressed completely to hers, he paused a moment to focus on his breathing. 

“Are you going to move or just stay here like a lump?” Helene asked, a challenge in her voice. She was trying to provoke him, wanted more of that anger he had shown before that had caused him to treat her so roughly. 

He shook his head, but began to move. Slowly at first, just enjoying the way she seemed to suck him back in each time he withdrew. He began to build up more steam, increasing his pace and the jerk of his hips. He panted, grunting with the force of his continued motion. Beneath him, Helene was moving too, pressing her hips against his, following in this ebb and flow. He gripped her hips hard enough to bruise as he went faster and faster, until he was fucking her with wild abandon. His hips snapped wildly and he felt pressure building within him. He panted, trying to pull himself impossibly closer to his wife. Closer. Closer. Until he went tumbling over the edge. 

He buried himself in as deep as he could go as he came inside of Helene, pressing her into the mattress. He suddenly felt weak and dizzy as he rolled off of her. He laid beside her for a moment, just listening to the sounds of their breathing. 

“You could have at least let me finish too.” Helene said after a long moment. She sat up and removed herself from the bed. “And you ruined one of my favorite dresses. I expect a replacement.” And then she was gone. And Pierre was alone again. 


End file.
